


Forget me not

by setaxis



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: AU, Artist Kyungsoo, Businessman Minseok, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4016503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setaxis/pseuds/setaxis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minseok is one of the youngest and most successful entrepreneurs of his generation but he is cold as ice and closed off from almost everyone. This changes when he sees a piece of graffiti by the artist D.O. that touches him right to his core.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget me not

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a pinch-hit for the xiusoo exchange. It was written in about four days so I apologise.

 

  


  
There's a crack in the pavement on the way to Minseok's work and through the crack grows a single forget-me-not. The flowers stand blue and stark against the concrete of the wall behind them.  
  
Minseok hates that flower.  
  
Even as Minseok returns home he can't escape seeing it - the pernicious thing has grown opposite a street lamp so even during the dead of night, the blue jumps out at him, mocking as ever.  


  
xxx

  
Someone has painted in a boy, hunched over and holding his hands out to cradle that lonely flower. Fading into the darkness where the light of the street lamp tapers off are adult sized shadows, backs turned to the figure of the crouching child. The shadows on his face, bent down, show nothing of his expression but Minseok doesn't have to see it to know.  
  
Abject loneliness.  
  
He feels tears spring to his eyes, unbidden, and he scrubs angrily at them with his sleeve horrified by the heat in his cheeks and the sting of tears. Minseok doesn't remember the last time he cried. He doesn't have time to cry.  
  
He hates this. He hates that flower and he hates the - can he call it an artwork? This piece of graffiti sprawling uninvited across the wall and into Minseok's life. Disgusting. He tears his eyes away from it and practically runs towards his apartment. It takes him no time at all to get home that evening, spurred on by some kind of righteous anger.  
  
He's shaking so badly by the time he gets home that he drops his key twice. He tries to make himself a cup of coffee to calm his nerves but the cup drops from his fumbling fingers and falls. The handle sheers right off. Minseok watches as the black coffee spreads around the two pieces, the black surrounding the white of the china like a sea.  
  
He knows if he leaves it there, the coffee will stain the floor, but he doesn't make any move to clean it up. He should clean it up. He should _want_ to clean it up.  
  
The ever extending mess stares up at him accusingly. He glares at it.  
  
_You're a puddle. You have no right to judge me!_  
  
He almost leaves it like that except he knows the only person he would be spiting is himself. He cleans in slow, lethargic sweeps. His whole body feels heavy and tired. Everything seems to take longer.  
  
That night, instead of tackling the reports that sit in his briefcase, Minseok goes to bed early. He sleeps fitfully, dreams haunted by boys with sad eyes and blue flowers.  


  
xxx

  
In the daylight, the graffiti doesn't seem to have so much power. It's still haunting, arresting, but it doesn't send Minseok into a fit of emotion like it did the night before. Now he is free to examine it with a level head he can see the mastery that has gone into it and admire the skill of the - and he is somewhat loath to call the person who did this by this name but - _artist_.  
  
Minseok is not an emotional man. He is famed for being rational, stoic and cold. He knows what his employees whisper in the break room and he knows what they call him when they think he won't hear.  
  
_Heartless. Emotionless. Callous._  
  
No, it is safe to say Minseok is not a man prone to great displays of emotion. Yesterday he may have hated the person who made the painting in front of him for the raw feelings it had dredged out of him - things he thought he had long put to rest - but now he only feels a grudging sense of respect. This is real talent, something really special.  
  
He doesn’t stop thinking about the painting all day. When he’s pouring his coffee he finds the blurred faces of the adults standing by, backs turned away. The endless piles of paperwork, white pillars on his desk, remind him how the shaft of light from the street lamp had cast a single ray onto the boy with his flower.  


  
xxx

_One week later_

  
Minseok needs to find the person who painted this. He doesn't have a clear idea of what he'll do once he meets the artist but it doesn't stop the ache, the restlessness that settles in his bones more and more as each day passes. It's not a feeling he enjoys. It's the same feeling that plagued him years ago, back when he was twenty one and adrift in the sea of life, skipping from town to town. Dangerous things happen when Minseok feels like this.  
  
Still, he has to listen to it. Nothing will get rid of it when it's settled in and he's learnt that the hard way. Not exercise, not work, not sex. Not even calling Jongdae eases the itch buzzing under his skin.  
  
Jongdae notices. Of course he does. Minseok has called him twice in one week just to hear his loud, over-cheerful voice - hoping that the voice of a dear friend could distract him from the faceless figures and bright blue flowers that haunt his waking dreams.  
  
“Minseok.” Jongdae says the third time Minseok calls him. “You know I love talking to you, but this is weird. Tell me what’s wrong.”  
  
“I saw a piece of graffiti.” Minseok says. “On the way to work.”  
  
Jongdae lets out a breath and it whistles through the gap in his teeth, a habit he’s had since childhood. “Must be some artwork.”  
  
Minseok thinks so too.  
  
“I want to find the artist.”  
  
“Okay.” Jongdae sounds amused. In the background he can hear the clatter of pots and pans – he must have called just as Jongdae was about to prepare dinner. Minseok knows Jongdae well enough that he won’t let a phone call get in the way of him acquiring food.  
  
“I need to meet him, Chen. Just once should be enough – just to get rid of this itch.”  
  
“Uh-huh.” The sound of vegetables being chopped echoes in the background.  
  
“You don’t believe me.”  
  
“The last time you ‘had to get rid of an itch’ you created a company that went on to become one of the most successful in Korea, forgive me if I don’t believe ‘just once should be enough’.” Jongdae teases.  
  
“You have an awful habit of quoting me back to me, you know.” Minseok sighs. He’s supposed to be working while talking to Jongdae but he’s making no headway. Jongdae keeps distracting him.  
  
“You only listen to yourself anyway.” Jongdae points out.  
  
“Touché.”  
  
“So this artist…”  
  
Minseok frowns. Jongdae’s using the tone of voice he frequently hears when his friend talks to Baekhyun. It’s his gossip voice. Jongdae wants to know details. He wants to know what Minseok knows. The problem is Minseok knows very little, hardly worth mentioning, and a sick, selfish part of him wants to keep those precious crumbs to himself.  
  
The phone line crackles. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”  
  
Damn Jongdae and his way of knowing what Minseok wants to say – or what he doesn’t – even before Minseok does. He supposes this is what sixteen years of friendship will do to you. He taps the butt of his pen irritably on his stack of work.  
  
“I only have his tag, nothing else.” He finally replies.  
  
“So hire a detective.” Jongdae says. “It’s not like you’re short of money. Yeah, it might be a bit creepy, but the whole ‘I saw your art work on a wall and then decided I had to find you’ thing is a bit creepy anyway. You might as well go the whole hog, to be honest.”  
  
Minseok lets the idea sink in. He has a tendency to want to take everything on himself, he knows. Even now that he has his own company and thousands of little workers to do things, delegation is still something that doesn’t come easily to him. But this – perhaps Jongdae is right.  
  
“Thank you.” Minseok knows Jongdae will know what he means. Thank you for listening. Thank you for not judging me. Thank you for your advice.  
  
“You’re welcome.” Comes the reply. Minseok can practically hear the smile in Jongdae’s voice. “Now piss off and do something constructive, like finding a detective. I have dinner to eat and a man to seduce.”  
  
“You’ve been hanging out with Baekhyun too much.” Minseok comments drily.  
  
The dial tone blares from the speaker. Minseok smiles despite himself. _That cheeky fucker._  
  
He opens the contacts on his phone and scrolls down to a number he barely uses. Without giving himself time to double guess himself he taps the call button and brings the phone to his ear. It rings twice.  
  
“Hello?” Says the voice on the other end of the line.  
  
“Lay.” Minseok says. “I have a job for you. There’s someone I want you to find.”  


  
xxx

  
Two weeks later there’s an inconspicuous manila folder sitting on Minseok’s coffee table. Minseok sits in the chair by the side, arms crossed, and stares at it. He commends Lay on his efficiency – he has always been prompt and discrete. It’s one of the reasons Minseok keeps hiring him. Today it is appreciated more than ever.  
  
Two weeks.  
  
It’s not a long time but it felt like it to Minseok. The restlessness has been almost unbearable. He thinks wryly that he’s probably got more done at work in two weeks than he has done in the last couple of months combined.  
  
Two weeks of hell and now he has this folder in front of him he hesitates to open it. Minseok is many things, but he has never taken himself for a coward until now. This folder contains information on the one human being Minseok has ever reached out to by himself, for himself, and that scares him. Before it has always been people punching their way through the walls he has put up. This is new. That is frightening.  
  
He shifts in his seat.  
  
The man that stares back at him from the folder is young – younger than Minseok. He is handsome with big round eyes that seem to stare at Minseok from out of the page. They seem to burn with something – rage, ambition, or something else entirely, Minseok isn’t quite sure. A quick glance at the basic information Lay has compiled for him shows that his name is Do Kyungsoo, aged 23. He is four years younger than Minseok. There’s other information there too – height, weight, family background – but Minseok only skims those. He’s more interested in where he can find this Do Kyungsoo than prying into his past. He already feels he knows enough about that because he’s seen Kyungsoo’s painting and felt Kyunsoo’s pain. Maybe that’s conceited of him. Time will tell.  
  
He closes the file. He rings up work to inform them he won’t be in the office tomorrow and to only contact him in an emergency. He tells them he’s on urgent business that cannot be delayed. They don’t question him.  
  
After that he makes himself a cup of coffee to calm his nerves and brings out the pile of work he brought with him from the office. He knows he isn’t going to sleep tonight. He may as well be productive.  


  
xxx

  
The next morning has him standing outside a drab concrete building in the more downmarket area of Seoul. The streets are lined with graffiti, tags sprayed over tags, and Minseok feels slightly out of place in his suit and shined shoes. He’d got more than one weird look on his way here. Minseok had forgotten that morning that he doesn’t own any casual clothes. He wears suits or he wears gym gear. He muses that perhaps he should have gone with the gym gear but some strange part of him wants to make an impression on this Do Kyungsoo, one that doesn’t involve looking like a gym rat.  
  
He walks inside. The reception area is the complete opposite of the outside of the building. The furniture is over bright, a mish-mash of colours and styles that leads Minseok to believe it’s all second hand, and the walls are painted with a mural of pieces by different artists. It hurts Minseok’s eyes even through the dark glasses he’s wearing.  
  
“Oh, hello!” The receptionist says, finally looking up from his notebook where he had been scribbling furiously. “Welcome to our studio. Can I help you?”  
  
Minseok takes in this man. He’s tall, a head or so taller than Minseok and his grin – like the rest of the reception – is over bright. His hair is orange, seemingly to match the reception desk itself, and styled into some kind of curly abomination. He looks nothing like the receptionist at Minseok’s office and he trusts him even less.  
  
“I’m looking for Do Kyungsoo.” He says.  
  
Light dawns in the receptionist’s eyes. “I see.” He gives Minseok a knowing look Minseok isn’t quite sure how to interpret, but makes him feel slightly uncomfortable. “Are you friends?”  
  
“Is that any of your business?” Minseok replies calmly.  
  
“I’m the receptionist,” the receptionist grins, “everything is my business.”  
  
Minseok pauses. “We aren’t, but perhaps we will be.”  
  
“He’s in studio six. Third floor, second on your left.”  
  
Minseok nods once. He’s not going to thank the man – his prying made sure of that. As he walks up the dark, narrow stairs he hears the receptionist call out,  
  
“Have fun!”  
  
He hears the man laugh too. It makes Minseok feel like the red-haired man knows something he doesn’t. He almost wishes he’d read the rest of Kyungsoo’s file.  
  
It doesn’t take him long before he reaches the door of studio six. Minseok thanks his strict gym regime for not being out of breathe because the stairs were steeper and more numerous than he was expecting. He stands in front of the door for a while. It’s plain, bare wood with the number branded into its flesh. Minseok likes it. It feels like it would suit Do Kyungsoo, artist who understands loneliness.  
  
He knocks once.  
  
“Piss off Chanyeol! I’m working!” An irate voice shouts from the other side of the door.  
Minseok knocks again, amused. There’s stomping and then the door is wrenched open. In front of him is exactly the man in the file. He’s short – Minseok hadn’t realised that – but no less handsome in real life. His eyes burn with anger, just as they had in the picture.  
  
“Chanyeol you dickwad I’ve told you-” Kyungsoo stops abruptly when he spots Minseok. “You aren’t Chanyeol.”  
  
“I’m sorry to disappoint.” Minseok says.  
  
“Who are you?” Kyungsoo looks him over once but his face is irritatingly smooth. Minseok has no idea what he’s thinking.  
  
“My name is Kim Minseok.” He gestures towards the studio. “May I come in?”  
  
Kyungsoo places himself firmly in the doorway. “Not until I know why you’re here.”  
  
It’s a reasonable request.  
  
“I’m Minseok, as I told you. As to why I’m here…” Minseok tries to think of a way to phrase it. He hadn’t really thought of what to say before he came partly because he wasn’t even sure he would make it this far, that he wouldn’t chicken out before he could meet Kyungsoo. “I’m a fan.” He settles on.  
  
Kyungsoo snorts. “Yeah. Right, okay. A fan.”  
  
“I saw your piece with the forget-me-not. It was interesting.”  
  
“Oh really.” Kyungsoo doesn’t look convinced. “If you’re such a fan tell me. What was it about? What was the point of that work?”  
  
“You want to see whether my vision matches yours? I thought art was subjective.” Minseok’s tone is part teasing, part riling and he knows it. It makes him pleased to see Kyungsoo’s expression darken from unconvinced to frustrated. Minseok is cruel, he knows. He plays best with the people he likes and Kyungsoo… He really likes Kyungsoo already. He’s not afraid to stand up to Minseok and neither is he impressed by Minseok’s obvious wealth. It’s refreshing.  
  
“Well?” Kyungsoo demands. He’s ignoring Minseok’s jibe.  
  
“I think it’s about loneliness.”  
  
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “Anyone with half a brain could see that.”  
  
It’s Minseok’s turn to get frustrated. “Let me finish please.”  
  
Kyungsoo mimes zipping up his lips. He’s got so much attitude. It reminds Minseok in part of Jongdae, but Kyungsoo is bitter and world-weary where Jongdae is not. Minseok takes a moment to collect his thoughts.  
  
“It’s about a kind of loneliness so deep you don’t know how to solve it – a kind of pain that comes from being forgotten. The boy – all the adults, all the world had their back to him. He didn’t matter to them so he ignored them too. Then he erased their faces so he didn’t have to remember them and with that didn’t have to remember the pain they brought him. Then you have how he’s in the spotlight and holding a forget-me-not. I think that has two meanings. Firstly, that even though he pretends like he doesn’t care about those people who abandoned him really, deep in his heart of hearts, he wishes that they hadn’t. He wishes he was worth remembering and that is the second meaning. Did you know forget me nots mean ‘remember me forever’ in the language of flowers? I think it means that he wants to become someone that no one could ever forget – someone who makes their mark on history. Someone who rises above all the rest and he won’t stop until he achieves that.”  
  
Throughout Minseok’s speech Kyungsoo remained quiet as promised. His face has once again settled back into that disarming blankness for before and Minseok wishes he knew what Kyungsoo was thinking. He’d revealed a little more than he’d been meaning too as he spoke. He hadn’t meant to make his interpretation quite so personal. Illogical, really. What is an interpretation but personal? But Minseok is unused to baring this much of his soul even to people he knows well. To do so with a stranger – it’s uncomfortable.  
  
“Thank you.” Kyungsoo says finally. “That work… You’re not wrong.”  
  
They look at each other for a while.  
  
“Why are you really here?” Kyungsoo sounds so old in that moment. He sounds a thousand years old, not twenty three. “I won’t believe that you’re a fan. My work isn’t well known enough to attract people like you – I doubt you’ve seen anything else I’ve painted.”  
  
“I don’t need to.”  
  
Kyungsoo stares at him as if he’s mad.  
  
“I am not a man who feels easily, Kyungsoo.” Minseok feels faintly ridiculous having a conversation like this in the hallway of some grungy studio so far from what he has become accustomed to but he feels a kindred spirit in Kyungsoo. They aren’t the same – Kyungsoo has more fire than Minseok has ever had – but he recognises someone guarded, someone who needs their walls broken down.  
  
“I am not a man who feels easily.” He repeats. “But your work made me relive days I thought were long past. It evoked feelings I thought I had buried so deep they would never resurface. I thought about nothing else but that painting for weeks. It doesn’t matter to me if none of your other works are any good or even if you have any others because I can see that you have the potential to create work that is truly great.”  
  
Kyungsoo looks a little overwhelmed. He is holding onto the doorframe for support and his eyes have widened to the point they look a little bit like they’re about to escape from his face.  
  
“Really?” He says faintly.  
  
“I even hired a detective to find you.” Minseok laughs.  
  
“That’s creepy.”  
  
“My friend told me that, yes.” Minseok smiles.  
  
“You are a strange man, Kim Minseok.” Kyungsoo finally smiles. “But you can come inside my studio. I would like to talk to you more I think.”  
  
“I’m honoured.” Minseok replies drily.  
  
Kyungsoo steps out of the way and ushers Minseok inside. Minseok doesn’t know what he was expecting from an artist’s studio but probably more _colour_. It looks nothing like the reception downstairs with its mismatching furniture and offensive colour scheme. Instead the walls are blank and white except for several canvases hung up and strings of stencils are strung across the room giving the illusion of walking through a forest of plastic, spray-paint covered leaves. It’s very simple. There’s a desk and an easel and a singular chair but really nothing else. A mini fridge sits in the corner of the room, tucked out of the way. There’s a sink too, presumably for washing brushes.  
  
Kyungsoo gestures to the only stool.  
  
“Sit.” He then perches himself on the desk. He’s short enough that he has to sort of hop up and once he’s sitting his legs swing. They don’t touch the floor. It makes him look much younger somehow. It matches his boyish face.  
  
Minseok nods his thanks and sits down. The stool is small, and uncomfortable.  
  
“I would offer you coffee, but I wouldn’t wish Chanyeol’s idea of coffee on anyone.” Kyungsoo smiles.  
  
Minseok smiles back. “It’s okay. I probably have enough caffeine running through my veins to kill a small elephant right now. More coffee would probably be inviting the worst.”  
  
“What do you do?” Kyungsoo gestures to the suit. “A business man?”  
  
“Of sorts.” Minseok confirms. “I own my own company.”  
  
Kyungsoo’s eyes bug out. “Shit, you’re _that_ Kim Minseok?”  
  
Minseok has to laugh at his reaction. How many Kim Minseoks did this kid think Seoul have? “I am indeed.”  
  
“I thought you were older.” Kyungsoo says honestly. “You’re so young.”  
  
“Twenty seven. Still older than you.”  
  
“Fuck. This is so surreal.” Kyungsoo’s fingers twitch. He seems to be resisting the urge to bite his fingernails. Even from here Minseok can see that they’re bitten to the quick.  
  
“Seriously, what the hell are you doing here?”  
  
“I’d like to become your sponsor if you’d let me.” Minseok offers mildly.  
  
Kyungsoo jumps off the table in shock. “Fuck off.” He exclaims. “Who are you really? Who put you up to this? Was it Chanyeol? I’m going to kill that bastard!”  
  
Minseok watches as Kyungsoo gets increasingly more irate. Honestly, he finds it fascinating. He’s never met a person with so much pure fire resting in their soul. He’s met people just as energetic (Jongdae may as well be the energiser bunny and his friend Baekhyun is not much better) but this is different. Kyungsoo isn’t hyper or loud in the way Jongdae is and it doesn’t tire Minseok out talking to Kyungsoo as it does talking with Jongdae, however much he may love his best friend.  
  
“Look me up.” He suggests. “I’ll leave you with my number, you can call me when you make a decision.”  
  
“Don’t bother.” Kyungsoo says, “I’m not falling for another one of Chanyeol’s pranks.”  
  
“I’ll leave it with the receptionist, then.”  
  
“You’ll leave your number with the receptionist? Right, sure. Again, I wouldn’t bother, I’m sure he’s already got it.” Kyungsoo storms to the door and flings it open again. “You can see yourself out.”  
  
Well. Minseok can tell where he’s not wanted. And everything had been going so well too. He stands from the stool, tugging on his suit jacket to straighten it as he does so. He unhurriedly walks to the door and stops before Kyungsoo. They are almost of a same height, and he can see frustration and hurt in Kyungsoo’s eyes.  
  
“If you don’t call within a week, I’ll be back.” Minseok says softly.  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t reply and Minseok takes that as his cue to leave. He walks back down the stairs slowly, as if he thinks that maybe Kyungsoo will reconsider and decide to call him back. Stupid. When he reaches the bottom the receptionist smirks at him.  
  
“You lasted longer than I thought. Good job, suit.” He comments.  
  
Minseok ignores him. “Can I leave my number here with you?”  
  
“Sure.” The giant grins at him. “You’re really that into him?”  
  
“Have you got a pen and paper?”  
  
The receptionist makes a big show of finding some before sliding them over the garish orange counter, infuriating grin in place the whole time. Minseok wastes no time in scribbling down his personal mobile number. A bit of a risk perhaps – only three people have this number apart from Minseok himself – but Kyungsoo is worth it.  
  
“What’s your name?” Minseok asks as an afterthought.  
  
“Chanyeol.” The giant replies.  
  
Ah, so that’s Chanyeol. Explains Kyungsoo’s comment about the receptionist already having his number.  
  
“Thank you, Chanyeol.” And with that Minseok steps out of the studio and out into the sunlight. The street is unchanged, graffiti still littering the sides of buildings and rubbish being blown in the wind, but to Minseok is somehow feels brighter. Maybe it’s because Minseok himself feels brighter. The itch, while not completely gone, is quiet for the moment.  
  
He smiles to himself. All that’s left to do now is wait.  


  
xxx

  
_Three days later_  
  
He doesn’t get a phone call as he was expecting. Instead on the third day after his visit to the studio there’s a single text message on his phone.  
  
_Are you free for a day? I’ll show you around some of my other works. Then you can decide if you really want to be my sponsor._  
  
He knows it’s Kyungsoo. He writes exactly the same way he talks. It’s unexpectedly cute.  
  
Technically Minseok is never free. It’s one of the prices of having your own business and making sure it’s successful. And he’s already had one day off last week, the day he went to go and see Kyungsoo at the studio so he probably shouldn’t take another off so soon. But on the other hand, this is Kyungsoo’s peace offering – Minseok shouldn’t turn it down. He’s not had a day off in nearly two years (last week aside) so he thinks the company can probably deal without him for another day. He doesn’t have any meetings tomorrow luckily.  
  
_How about tomorrow?_ He quickly fires back.  
  
_Meet me at Sky Park at 9am_ Comes the reply.  
  
So blunt. Minseok is struck again at how little Minseok being _the_ Kim Minseok seems to bother Kyungsoo. He seemed more bothered that someone would be playing a prank on him than the fact that Minseok is ridiculously wealthy and quite famous. He’s thought it before but honestly it’s so refreshing. Minseok doesn’t know him very well but he likes Do Kyungsoo more and more every time they talk.  
  
_Okay._ He replies.  
  
Minseok goes to work that day with a smile on his face. His secretary almost chokes on his coffee when he sees Minseok stride into the office, cup of coffee already in hand and a small, almost secretive smile on his lips.  


  
xxx

  
Quarter to nine the next day sees Minseok at the entrance to Sky Park in a pair of Jongdae’s jeans and one of his own gym hoodies. He’s deliberately left his hair ungelled and it falls into his eyes. He tries to puff it away with his breath because it’s irritating. He feels uncomfortable. He feels like he’s back to being twenty one and without a place in this world. He can’t remember the last time he wore jeans.  
  
Do Kyungsoo is also wearing jeans as he strides up to Minseok with a frown on his face. He looks different out of his studio – more approachable somehow, even with the furrowing of his eyebrows.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Kyungsoo gives him a deep bow. “I looked you up. I’m sorry for saying that you were lying.”  
  
“It’s okay. It must have been a lot to take in.”  
  
They stand there for a moment in silence. Minseok still doesn’t know why Kyungsoo asked him there today and Kyungsoo seems to be quite happy to leave him without answers.  
  
“I almost didn’t recognise you.” Kyungsoo confesses.  
  
“I barely recognise myself.” Minseok mutters and Kyungsoo laughs. It changes his face completely – there’s no anger there now just genuine amusement. He looks younger. He looks very handsome.  
  
Minseok swallows. These are dangerous thoughts to be having.  
  
“I thought you were going to be showing me your art, not judging my fashion choices?” He teases.  
  
To his relief Kyungsoo seems to realise it’s a joke and grins. “Not judging. Admiring, maybe.”  
  
For a second it feels almost like Kyungsoo might be flirting with him but almost immediately Kyungsoo starts walking off and the moment is over as Minseok is forced to almost jog to catch up.  
  
When Kyungsoo said they were going to see his artwork, Minseok hadn’t thought that he meant ‘every piece of graffiti Kyungsoo had ever made’ and would involve trekking all over Seoul. He’s glad he put his trainers on.  
  
It takes nearly three hours to complete the circuit. They talked for some of it – Kyungsoo seemed to be very interested in Minseok’s thoughts on his artwork – but equally they are silent. It’s not awkward. Minseok likes it. Never before has he met someone who understands the quality of silence and can enjoy it like he himself does, someone who realises that not every moment needs to be filled with endless chatter.  
  
Minseok cannot remember three hours of his life so happily spent in a very long time. Kyungsoo’s work is just as impressive as he was expecting. Each piece is filled with commentary on society but also often a dry, witty humour that resonates with him down to his core but what has surprised him is he’s enjoyed Kyungsoo’s company just as much, if not more than his art work. Like the graffiti Kyungsoo is a little rough round the edges but has seriously deep thoughts often presented with sharp wit and sarcasm. Minseok likes Kyungsoo’s art. He knew this. He wasn’t prepared to like Kyungsoo.  
  
“Do you want to get coffee or something?” He finds himself saying at the end of their tour. He doesn’t know what prompted him to say such a thing, but the pleased smile from Kyungsoo makes it worth it.  
  
“I know a place around the corner.”  
  
Kyungsoo leads him to a small coffee shop. It’s clearly the type of place to be frequented by hipsters. Instead of chairs there’s just cosy, quilt covered sofas and there are bookshelves with books everywhere. There’s no queue so they walk straight up to the counter and the kid with really obviously dyed hair who stands behind it seems to recognise Kyungsoo and smiles. It transforms his face from bored and somewhat haughty to puppy-like in three seconds flat.  
  
“Kyungsoo-hyung!” He shouts.  
  
“Hi, Sehunnie.” Kyungsoo smiles back. “How are you?”  
  
“I’m good, Joonmyeon-hyung just hired this new guy so I’m not so run off my feet anymore.” The kid grins. “Your usual?”  
  
“Not today. I’ll have a chai latte please.”  
  
“Sure!” The kid turns to Minseok as if he’s only just realised Minseok was there. “And what about for your _friend_?”  
  
Minseok frowns at the emphasis the kid has placed on friend. It makes him feel weird, like him and Kyungsoo are on a date or something. “I’ll have an Americano, black.” He says.  
  
“Cool. I’ll bring that right over.” Sehun scampers off to make drinks and Kyungsoo gently tugs Minseok over to one of the less eye-offending couches.  
  
“You pay at the end.” He explains. “It’s a tab system.”  
  
“You seem to come here quite a lot.” Minseok notes, attempting to rearrange the numerous cushions behind him so he can actually sit down.  
  
“I’m friends with the owner.” Kyungsoo says. “We went to school together.”  
  
Minseok hums in response.  
  
“So, do you still want to be my sponsor?” Kyungsoo asks. He says it with such nonchalance that Minseok might have been fooled into thinking that Kyungsoo doesn’t care but the twitch of his fingers gives him away. He’s stopping himself from biting his nails. Kyungsoo’s nervous.  
  
“More than ever.” Minseok reassures him. “You are very talented, Kyungsoo.”  
  
“Thank you.” Kyungsoo mumbles. The tips of his ears have turned red. He looks pleased and embarrassed all at the same time and Minseok makes a note to compliment him more often. At that moment Sehun swans over with their drinks. He sets them on the table with the same knowing smile Chanyeol had given him the week before and it doesn’t sit well with Minseok. He takes his coffee and sips, trying to ease the uncomfortable feeling.  
  
“So, what would you need from me? I’ve never been a sponsor before so I don’t really know how this is supposed to work.” Minseok confesses.  
  
“Well I’ve never had a sponsor before, so I guess we’re even.” Kyungsoo says with a smile. “But I don’t know, just paying for stuff I guess? So I have more time to paint?”  
  
“So you don’t paint all the time now?” Minseok says with surprise.  
  
“God no!” Kyungsoo laughs. “I don’t make nearly enough from my paintings to let me give up my day job!”  
  
“I see.” Minseok frowns. “Well, I suppose I can take care of that.”  
  
“You would do that?” Kyungsoo’s fingers are twitching again.  
  
“I am your sponsor.” Minseok reminds him. “I’m supposed to pay for stuff like this, aren’t I? So that’s rent I’ll pay for. What about your lease at the studio? I should pay that too.”  
  
“I don’t know how I will ever repay you for this.” Kyungsoo says honestly.  
  
“I don’t need anything.” Minseok replies with equal honesty.  
  
Kyungsoo looks frustrated. “I just… I’m grateful, I am. And I know I need this because I don’t want to give up on art and I can’t keep going the way I am but I need to give something back.”  
  
He turns his eyes to Minseok and it’s then Minseok sees the boy from the graffiti – the one with the forget me not cradled so gently in his hands. Kyungsoo is so determined to make something of himself so he cannot be forgotten but he also wants to do it on his own terms, under his own steam. Minseok can relate to that. He knows that feeling so well he can almost taste it on his tongue – the bitter tang of blood and a hunger so deep all the rice in Asia could not sate it.  
  
“Okay.” He acquiesces. “Then I have some conditions.”  
  
“Anything.”  
  
“First, I get to have first pick of anything you produce unless it’s been specifically commissioned for something else.”  
  
Kyungsoo nods. It’s a reasonable request.  
  
“Second, I’d like to see you work sometime.” Kyungsoo looks dismayed. “I’m not asking for long, just an hour or two. I don’t want to disrupt the creative process but I am curious.”  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t look so sure about this condition but he nods again. Minseok feels slightly bad about making Kyungsoo uncomfortable but he really is curious. They’ll try it once, if it really doesn’t work Minseok won’t ask to do it again.  
  
“Third, don’t stop doing graffiti.”  
  
“Huh?” Kyungsoo looks confused. “But won’t that take away from my earnings?”  
  
“Stop trying to think of paying me back, Kyungsoo. You should think about your art instead. Graffiti art is what brought me to you in the first place, remember?”  
  
Kyungsoo sits back on his sofa chastised. The tips of his ears are pink again. Minseok thinks idly about nibbling them.  
  
“So we’re agreed?” Minseok asks to distract himself from his own thoughts.  
  
“Agreed.” Kyungsoo gives Minseok a small, shy smile. “I look forward to working with you, Kim Minseok.”  


  
xxx

  
_Three months later_  
  
It’s Minseok’s now-mandatory weekly half day off. He strides into the studio reception breezing past Chanyeol, who appears to be asleep yet again, and up the stairs to studio six. It’s almost summer and the coolness of the stairwell is a welcome reprieve from the heat outside. Minseok has finally caved in to Kyungsoo and Jongdae’s nagging and gone shopping a couple of weeks before and he’s glad he did – he does not want to be wearing suits in this weather.  
  
He knocks on the door. Kyungsoo is expecting him. They’ve fallen into a comfortable routine of late night phone calls and half-days together as the months have gone on. Sometimes they talk for a long time and other times they are silent but Minseok likes it either way. Sometimes he calls Kyungsoo up when he’s working late at night just so he can hear Kyungsoo’s brushes on canvas on the other end of the line.  
  
“Hi!” Kyungsoo answers the door breathlessly. He’s smiling. He’s been doing a lot of that lately, Minseok has observed – not that he’s complaining.  
  
“Hi.” Minseok smiles back. “You look cheery today.”  
  
“I got a commission.” Kyungsoo tells him eagerly. For a second it doesn’t register. Minseok has to replay the words to get the meaning to come together properly but when they do he can’t help but smile even wider.  
  
“When was this?”  
  
“Couple of days ago.” Kyungsoo is still smiling. “I wanted to tell you in person.”  
  
“I’m so pleased for you.” Minseok gathers Kyungsoo up in a hug without even thinking about it. Kyungsoo fits in his arms so well. He’s warm and soft. Kyungsoo brings his arms up around Minseok tentatively and they just stand there for a while, content in each other’s arms.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Minseok pulls back eventually, embarrassed. “I don’t know what came over me.”  
  
“It’s fine.” Kyungsoo ducks his head. “I didn’t mind.”  
  
“I haven’t hugged someone who isn’t Jongdae in…” Minseok trails off. He actually can’t remember the last time he hugged anyone who wasn’t Jongdae. Was it Baekhyun at Jongdae’s last Christmas party? Maybe it was for that god awful commercial they made him shoot for the company last year. A long time, anyway.  
  
It’s really amazing how different he is with Kyungsoo. From the start it’s always been Minseok taking the first steps and breaking into Kyungsoo’s shell and not the other way round. He reached out to Kyungsoo to become his sponsor. He has told Kyungsoo more about himself than possibly even Jongdae knows and now this hug - the first hug he has initiated in years.  
  
Kyungsoo is different from anyone he has ever met. Kyungsoo feels like the best thing that has ever happened to him.  
  
He loves being with Kyungsoo. He loves who he is when he’s with Kyungsoo. He loves-  
  
“I have to go.” Minseok says hurriedly.  
  
“But you only just got here!” Kyungsoo protests. “I haven’t even told you what they want me to paint.”  
  
“I’m sorry.” Minseok stutters. “I just remembered I have to do something.”  
  
He sprints out of the building like his tail is on fire, Chanyeol’s mocking laughter ringing in his ears.

  
xxx

  
Minseok has Jongdae on speed dial. As soon as he climbs into his car he presses the number. It goes to voicemail. He dials in again, impatiently. Jongdae picks up on the second ring.  
  
“What’s wrong?” He says. “You never call me twice.”  
  
“Jongdae.” Minsoek’s voice breaks.  
  
“Shit.” Jongdae breathes. “Minseok, where are you?”  
  
“I’m in my car. I was seeing Kyungsoo.” Minseok can hear the waver in his voice and he hates it. In the background he can hear Jongdae scrabbling for keys.  
  
“Stay where you are and stay on the phone with me.” Jongdae commands. “I’ll be there in ten.”  
  
Minseok nods his head even though he knows Jongdae won’t be able to see him because the rush of affection he feels for his best friend on top of his already considerable emotional turmoil has left him speechless.  
  
“What happened Minnie? Talk to ChenChen.” He hears in his ear. “Did he ask you to stop being his sponsor or something?”  
  
“No.” Minseok says.  
  
There’s the revving of an engine in the background.  
  
“Come on, come on.” He hears Jongdae mutter. It isn’t directed at him, it’s directed at the traffic he’s sure but it coaxes him into talking.  
  
“I’m in love with him.” Minseok confesses quietly.  
  
“Oh, Minnie.” Jongdae says.  
  
“Did you know?”  
  
“I guessed.” Jongdae admits. “But I thought you knew, honest to god I did.”  
  
“I’m scared.”  
  
“I know. I’ll be there soon.”  
  
“Thank you.” Minseok whispers.  
  
He doesn’t remember what else they talk about. Meaningless things, trivial things. But it keeps him reasonably calm until Jongdae arrives with his compassionate, sorrowful eyes. As soon as he sees Minseok he grips Minseok’s hand tight in his.  
  
“It’ll be alright, Minseok. I promise you.” He says. Minseok doesn’t know whether he believes that but the promise is enough to get him moving out of his car and into Jongdae’s. Apart from walking from the passenger door to the driver’s seat Jongdae doesn’t let go of Minseok’s hand until they get back to Minseok’s flat. Minseok is grateful for it. It keeps him grounded. It keeps him from flying into a million little pieces.  
  
It’s barely mid-afternoon but Jongdae helps Minseok change into his pyjamas and then bundles in with him in Minseok’s bed. It feels warm and safe.  
  
“We haven’t done this since we were kids.” Minseok says.  
  
“A terrible shame.” Jongdae tells him with a straight face.  
  
Minseok rolls his eyes.  
  
“Are we going to talk about him?” Jongdae asks gently.  
  
“What about him?”  
  
“How you feel about him, Minseok. Don’t play coy with me right now.”  
  
“I’m sorry.” Minseok whispers. “I just…”  
  
“It’s a lot to take, I get it.”  
  
“How can I love him, Chen? Nothing good will come of this.” Minseok confesses.  
  
“You aren’t a monster.”  
  
“Aren’t I?” Minseok doesn’t look at Jongdae’s face, he doesn’t think he can handle what he sees there.  
  
“I can’t tell you what you feel Minseok, or even what he feels but I do know this; you are just as deserving of love as I am and I am so far from perfect it’s unreal.”  
  
“You _are_ -” Minseok starts.  
  
“Minseok, don’t lie to yourself. Don’t lie to _me_. It’s not unkind when it’s just a fact. I am imperfect. You are imperfect. _Kyungsoo_ is imperfect. It’s just part of being human and you have to accept that being perfect is not required to love someone or to be worthy of love.”  
  
Jongdae lifts Minseok’s chin until he’s looking straight at Jongdae. His eyes aren’t judging like Minseok had feared - instead they are full of warmth and compassion and love.  
  
“Do you feel a bit better now?” Jongdae asks softly.  
  
Minseok takes stock. “I don’t feel like I’m about to fly apart anymore.” He says slowly.  
  
“Good.” Jongdae says. “Promise me you’ll think about what I said?”  
  
“I promise.”  
  
“Good.” Jongdae says again. He tightens his grip on Minseok’s waist. “Then I think for the moment the best think we can do is sleep.”  
  
“You know I don’t sleep well.” Minseok gripes.  
  
“Fine. I’ll sleep and you can lie here and be my bolster. Sound good?” Jongdae replies snarkily but the sleep is already creeping into his voice.  
  
Minseok would usually argue but at the moment he’s so full of affection for his dumb, loud mess of a best friend that he gives in. He settles into Jongdae’s embrace and before he knows it, he’s asleep.  


  
xxx

  
Minseok tries his best to remain normal with Kyungsoo over the phone. He listens attentively to Kyungsoo telling him about his client and what they want him to paint. Anyone else might have thought that Kyungsoo wasn’t excited but Minseok can tell. Kyungsoo’s words might be flat but there are still tell-tale signs. He misses a couple words, mispronounced others. Mistakes he would never make if he weren’t in a high state of emotion.  
  
He keeps thinking a lot about what Jongdae told him. He doesn’t have to be perfect to love Kyungsoo and he doesn’t have to be perfect to be worthy of having that love reciprocated. Which he wasn’t sure it was, even though Jongdae had assured him that it likely would be.  
  
Sometimes his distraction shows when he’s talking to Kyungsoo. He’ll drift off into his own thoughts and forget what Kyungsoo had said. Kyungsoo had snapped a little bit at that point - that phone call had ended early.  
  
The next day Kyungsoo had called first. He had apologised in his own, curt manner and everything was back to normal. They had talked about Minseok’s work and Kyungsoo’s and then about things they’d seen in the news. Then conversation had died out, but Minseok had been content to listen to the scratching of pencil and paper as Kyungsoo tried out sketches for his new project.  
  
That phone call reminds Minseok that Kyungsoo is not perfect. Minseok loves Kyungsoo anyway.  
  
Doesn’t Minseok, imperfect as he is, deserve to love someone as imperfect as he is?  
  
Because the way Minseok sees it Kyungsoo, who also is not perfect, is still more than deserving of love.  
  
That night Minseok makes his decision. For better or for worse, Minseok is going to take the risk. He might get scared along the way. He might push Kyungsoo away at times but it’s only because he’s human. He is imperfect. He will make mistakes. But he can try again. He can apologise, like Kyungsoo had done. He can be forgiven.  
  
But he can only be forgiven if he gives it a try in the first place.  


  
xxx

  
When Minseok’s half-day rolls around he can barely contain himself. He’s a wreck, worse than the day he met Kyungsoo for the first time. He hasn’t slept. He’s jittery from caffeine and nerves and he feels so anxious he can taste bile at the back of his throat.  
  
He gives Chanyeol a quick nod as he passes, practically sprinting up the stairs. He doesn’t bother knocking this time. He would, but he feels like if he had to wait for Kyungsoo to answer the door his legs would betray him and would carry him back down the stairs and away from potential rejection and humiliation. He can’t allow that to happen. This is too important. _Kyungsoo_ is too important.  
  
“Minseok?” Kyungsoo says, surprised. He has a paintbrush in hand and a splatter of paint falls to the floor. “Why didn’t you knock?”  
  
Minseok shifts, uncomfortable.  
  
“Ah, I’m sorry.” Kyungsoo places his brushes to the side. “I didn’t mean it like that I just… I was surprised.”  
  
“Kyungsoo.” He says before he can chicken out. “I’m sorry if this is inappropriate as your sponsor or if this makes you uncomfortable but I really like you. I haven’t felt this close to someone in- I don’t think I’ve ever been as close to someone as I am with you right now _including_ Jongdae and he’s been my friend for longer than my age will allow me to admit. I’m not perfect, I’m the first person to admit that, and being with me probably won’t be easy or even good most of the time. But would you- I mean, there’s no pressure at all, I understand-”  
  
He’s cut off by Kyungsoo pressing his lips against Minseok’s.  
  
“Yes.” Kyungsoo is smiling. “Yes, I’ll date you.”  
  
“You didn’t even know what I was going to ask.” Minseok protests.  
  
Kyungsoo flushes. The tips of his ears are that delectable red again. “I knew what I _wanted_ you to ask.”  
  
“I really like you, Kyungsoo.” Minseok is smiling so hard he thinks his face will break.  
  
“I really like you, Minseok.” Kyungsoo replies.  
  
“Are you sure this doesn’t interfere with me being your sponsor?” Minseok asks worriedly. He’s really, really hoping that Kyungsoo will say no.  
  
Kyungsoo just looks at him fondly and shakes his head. “Kim Minseok, sometimes you are so innocent I can’t believe you’re the older one.”  
  
He wraps his arms around Minseok’s neck and leans in.  
  
“You want to know why Sehun and Chanyeol were giving you those knowing looks all the time?” He says teasingly.  
  
Minseok places his hands on Kyungsoo’s waist and nods. He’s pretty sure he’d say yes to almost anything at this point because Kyungsoo is in his arms and _this far_ from his lips.  
  
“Sponsors often aren’t as _generous_ as you are, they often want a little something else for their investment, if you know what I mean.” Kyungsoo runs his thumb down Minseok’s neck. “So when you came looking for me asking to be my sponsor do you know what they thought? _They thought we were already fucking._ ” Kyungsoo says wickedly.  
  
“Oh.” Minseok says faintly.  
  
“Yeah.” Kyungsoo grins.  
  
“So should I add that to the list of things I should provide as your sponsor?” Minseok asks cheekily, pulling Kyungsoo in by his waist until he can get no closer.  
  
“I think you should, yes.” Kyungsoo presses a kiss to Minseok’s mouth again. It feels like warmth sun and tingles like the fizzing candy Minseok hasn’t had since he was a child. Minseok has never felt happier.  
  
The restlessness that has been settled deep in his bones is quiet. The itch is gone. He is at peace.  
  
  
  
For now.  
  
---  
  
  



End file.
